Show Jumper (13 page)

Mrs. Atwood’s smile vanished, and a slight edge crept into her tone. “Not to worry,” she said evenly. “I went shopping in a local boutique and found you a darling new dress to wear tonight. No,” she firmly cut off another protest from Lisa. “I just won’t hear any more excuses. I’ve worked very hard to make friends here, and this is important to me. The least you can do is go to dinner. Is that so much to ask? Now let’s go back to my hotel. I want you to try on the dress and get your hair done at the beauty parlor. We have a long afternoon ahead of us.”

Lisa sighed in resignation. Looking at it from her mother’s point of view, she seemed a real pain saying no to “dinner.” She looked around and found a piece of paper, then wrote a note to Carole and Stevie explaining that she wouldn’t be joining them for dinner and why. She also asked them to take care of Samson for the night. She tacked the note onto Starlight’s stall where they would be sure to see it, then turned to her mother. “Lead the way,” she said wearily.

L
ISA GAZED INTO
the cold eyes of Margie, Belinda, and Melinda. Perhaps this was another dream, she told herself. Perhaps she was having a nightmare in which her mother’s friends had turned out to be the parents of Margie, Belinda, and Melinda. Worse yet, she was forced to sit at one end of the table with them while their mothers chatted at the other end.
Perhaps I’ll wake up
, Lisa thought,
and I’ll be where I want to be—with Carole and Stevie and Mrs. Reg, eating at a pizza place and laughing and telling jokes.

Then Mrs. Atwood, noticing Lisa’s antisocial silence, suddenly reached over and tapped her daughter on the arm. Lisa jumped, but she didn’t wake up. She was stuck with Margie, Belinda, and Melinda.

Then she looked down at the mess on her plate. She had asked for steak, cooked medium, hoping to get something that she recognized. Instead she had gotten a very rare piece of beef—oozing red juice—that had been wrapped in layers of overdone pastry. Lisa struggled with cutting the beef but could barely make a dent in the shell. When she finally managed to cut into the beef, the force of her knife made flakes of pastry and red meat juice fly over the front of the ridiculous new dress her mother had bought for her. The dress was pink and had smocking down the front, just like a baby’s dress.
Thank goodness
, thought Lisa.
Maybe I’ve ruined it.

“How long did you say you’ve been riding again?” Margie asked sweetly.

“Is this your first big show?” asked Belinda.

“Have you ever trained with any real riding instructors?” asked Melinda.

Lisa confined herself to answering their remarks as briefly as possible. Then they started asking her about Samson. Since this was more neutral territory, Lisa volunteered information more readily about him.

“Yes, I helped train Samson for this competition,” she said proudly. “And I was the one who found out about his jumping talent.”

“Well, of course you did,” said Margie. “Who else but his owner would find that out?”

“Oh, I don’t own Samson,” said Lisa. “He belongs to Max. He’s a Pine Hollow horse. I don’t have my own horse.”

“You don’t own him?” asked Margie in disbelief. “How strange! I thought that everyone who rode the A circuit owned their own horse.”

Lisa flushed. She turned away from the three girls and tried to get her mother’s attention. But her mother was absorbed in a conversation with Margie’s mother.

“Yes, it’s the most exclusive store for riding clothes in the Philadelphia area, located on the Main Line,” Margie’s mother was saying. “You know, that’s where anyone who’s anyone lives in this area. We’ve all lived there for years. Although if you really want decent riding clothes, you should go down South to horse country.”

“Really?” Mrs. Atwood said. “We’ve offered to buy a horse for Lisa, but she’s turned us down so far. She says she’s not ready, although after today, I can’t see why not.”

“Maybe that’s for the best,” said Margie’s mother in a condescending tone. “After all, you can’t imagine how much you have to spend for a halfway decent horse. Why, I spent at least …”

Hearing her mother’s oohs and aahs, Lisa sighed. She was hoping they could skip dessert and the rest of this long, boring dinner so that she could get back to the motel. But it didn’t look as if her mother was going anywhere for a long time.

“But you’re from Willow Creek, right?” Margie’s mother was saying. “I’m surprised you don’t know Barb diAngelo. She’s one of my best friends.”

Lisa groaned inwardly. Of course Margie’s mother and Mrs. diAngelo were good friends—just like Margie and Veronica.

“Oh, I do know Barb diAngelo!” said Mrs. Atwood. “We belong to the same country club.”

“Well, you must join us in the VIP box tomorrow,” Margie’s mother said graciously, as if Mrs. Atwood had passed some important test. Lisa’s mother beamed with pleasure.

Suddenly Lisa couldn’t stand any more. She was sick of the food, she was sick of Margie and Belinda and Melinda, and she was sick of her mother’s fawning over
these awful people. “I don’t think you need fancy riding clothes or an expensive horse to do well at a horse show,” she burst out. “One of my best friends bought a horse for not very much money and trained him herself” Lisa was, of course, talking about Carole and Starlight. “She doesn’t wear the latest riding clothes, either,” she went on, “but she’s one of the best riders I ever saw. She’s competing in tomorrow’s final jumping round.”

During Lisa’s outburst, Margie’s mother began raising her eyebrows, and after Lisa was finished, she said, “Well, how … nice for your little friend, doing things that way. I’m sure she’s very dedicated.”

Mrs. Atwood, flushing pink at Lisa’s outburst, jumped in quickly. “Lisa doesn’t mean to be so … aggressive, do you, dear?” she said, patting Lisa on the arm. “The stress of competing must be affecting her manners. Normally she’s just the quietest, sweetest little thing—such a good student, too …” She went on discussing Lisa as if she weren’t there.

Excluded from the conversation, Lisa turned to her end of the table again, only to find Margie, Belinda, and Melinda wearing smug grins. Lisa’s outburst had obviously convinced them that she was rattled and that their little plan to break down her confidence was working. “We’ll see how you and your friend do tomorrow,” said Margie with a meaningful smirk.

Fuming quietly, Lisa said nothing more.

“Would you like dessert, miss?” the waiter asked, handing her the menu.

W
HILE
L
ISA SUFFERED
through
her
dinner, Carole, Stevie, and Mrs. Reg were eating their dinner at a nearby pizza joint. The restaurant, which smelled deliciously of tomatoes and cheese and garlic, was crowded with people from the Macrae. Carole and Stevie were craning their necks, stealing glances at all the famous riders. Their conversation consisted of phrases like “Look, there’s …!” and “Hey, I didn’t get her autograph! D’you think she’d mind if I—?”

“Yes, I do think she’d mind,” interrupted Mrs. Reg. “Famous riders like to eat their dinners just as much as you do. And fortunately, our dinner has arrived.”

The waitress placed a bubbling-hot pizza, laden with pepperoni and extra cheese, in front of them. The pizza looked so good that Carole and Stevie stopped stargazing and dug in as if they hadn’t eaten for days. After polishing off three slices each, they resumed their conversation.

“That’s the great thing about these big horse shows,” said Carole, picking up another slice. “Nobodies like us get to rub elbows with Kathy Colefield!” Kathy Colefield, a show-jumping veteran, was eating pizza in a nearby booth. The girls had seen her win international competitions over the past year with her horse, Top of the List, or as everyone called him, Tops.

“No, no, you’ve got it backwards,” said Stevie with her mouth full. At a glance from Mrs. Reg, she hastily chewed and swallowed and then finished her sentence. “At these big shows, Kathy Colefield gets to rub elbows with The Saddle Club!”

Carole and Mrs. Reg laughed. Then Mrs. Reg motioned to Kathy Colefield’s booth. “Yoo-hoo,” she called. “Kathy, don’t you have time to say hi to an old friend?”

Kathy caught sight of Mrs. Reg and grinned. “Sure I do,” she said, then excused herself to her fellow diners and came over to talk to them.

Carole and Stevie could barely contain their excitement. Carole had just read an interview with Kathy in a riding magazine the month before, and she knew that the rider was one of the leading contenders for a future Olympic team. Carole was almost too intimidated to ask her anything, but Kathy was so nice and down-to-earth, she put them at ease right away. She smiled at Carole and, thrilling her even more, said casually, “Nice job today. You handled that course really well, even though you had to go first.”

“Th-Thanks,” stammered Carole. Kathy Colefield had watched her compete? And now she was complimenting her?

“Watch out for tomorrow’s course,” said Kathy. “I’ve seen the junior jumping final lots of times, and I’ve noticed that they always like to use the same combination—a
big oxer followed by a hundred-and-eighty-degree turn to a vertical. It’s tough to get your horse around for the vertical, but I think you can do it” Carole glowed even more and thanked Kathy for the advice.

Then Kathy turned back to Mrs. Reg. “How’s Max?” she asked. “I haven’t seen him in ages. Is he here at the show? That rascal hasn’t called me in years.”

“These are two of his best students from Pine Hollow,” said Mrs. Reg. “Of course he’s here, but he had another engagement tonight. I’ll tell him you said hello, though. He would love to see you sometime, I know.”

“Wonderful!” said Kathy, her eyes lighting up. “Maybe I can come and visit Pine Hollow sometime, help out with a riding lesson? I’d love to get away from the show circuit.…”

Carole and Stevie looked at Mrs. Reg in excitement, pleading with their faces for her to say yes and encourage Kathy to visit Pine Hollow. But the expression on Mrs. Reg’s face puzzled them. She was looking a little bit uncomfortable, a little bit understanding, and a little bit sympathetic. They waited for Mrs. Reg’s response.

“Did you know,” Mrs. Reg said gently, “that Max got married? He and his wife have a lovely daughter now.”

Kathy’s face fell slightly, but she smiled brightly. “No, but that’s great news,” she said. “Well, if I don’t
see him, give him my best.” After wishing Carole luck, she walked off.

Mrs. Reg calmly picked up another piece of pizza, seemingly unaware that Carole and Stevie were practically bouncing out of their seats. “Okay, Mrs. Reg, give it up,” Stevie finally commanded. “What was
that
all about?”

Mrs. Reg’s eyes twinkled. “Oh, Kathy’s an old girlfriend of Max’s,” she said lightly. “I guess she wasn’t caught up on certain, er, recent events in his life. I know she took the breakup between them hard, but she was focused on her riding career and Max was determined to build Pine Hollow into what it is today.”

Carole looked goggle-eyed in disbelief. “Max used to
date
Kathy Colefield?” Somehow she couldn’t imagine Max with anyone but his wife, Deborah. In fact, she couldn’t imagine Max dating at all.

Mrs. Reg smiled teasingly. “You know,” she said, “back in the days when he was competing, Max was really quite a heartbreaker.”

This last remark made Carole and Stevie giggle uncontrollably. The thought of their lovable but stern riding instructor as a dashing young man, breaking hearts on the show circuit, was too weird. Their giggles turned into laughter, and they were thankful that Kathy Colefield had already left, since they didn’t want her to think they were laughing at her.

“Oh, oh,” gasped Stevie, wiping her eyes. Her stomach
hurt, she had laughed so hard. “I can’t wait to tell Lisa that Max was once a major romantic idol on the A circuit.”

“I wish she were here,” Carole said wistfully. “I think this evening would have done her good. She seemed really tense after finding out about the jacket, and I could tell she was starting to worry about tomorrow.”

“Me too,” said Stevie. “Maybe,” she added doubtfully, “she’s having fun, too.”

“Somehow, I doubt it,” said Carole.